It's Never Too Late for a Happy Childhood
by Antigone Q
Summary: Harry goes back in time to give his five-year-old self a happy Christmas. Break out the milk and cookies for this one! Complete!
1. The Idea

Disclaimer:  Harry Potter does not belong to me.  He and the other characters are property of J.K. Rowling and Warner Brothers, and I am not making any money off this story.  

Please don't archive without permission.

It was nearly midnight the night after the start of the winter holidays, and  Harry was lying on his bed in the dark Gryffindor dormitory taking a rare journey into the unfamiliar worlds of Self-pity and Envy.  Neither Ron nor Hermione were going to stay at Hogwarts that year, leaving him to celebrate Christmas Day with those left at Hogwarts - who, coincidentally, were all from the same house: Snape, Bulstrode, Crabbe, and two young Slytherins whose names Harry didn't even know.  

As much as he would have liked some company, he didn't relish the idea of spending Christmas in the Slytherin common room.  Harry could only picture his potion professor's sneer as he was wished a "Happy Christmas."  Nor did Harry want the Slytherins looking with disdain at his yearly Weasley sweater and comparing his few gifts with theirs.

Harry was indulging in Self-Pity, not so much just because he wasn't having a very good Christmas this year, but because he had never had a proper Christmas, ever, as far back as he could remember.  He had had some happy Christmases with his friends at Hogwarts the over the past few years, but nothing like he pictured Christmas ought to be in his mind, with a happy family around a tree and small children jumping on parents' beds Way Too Early in the Morning.  

That was where Envy was coming into play.  Picturing the Weasley family opening all their knitted sweaters and socks on this Christmas morning, and every past Christmas morning for years and years, was making his stomach hurt.  Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had invited him for Christmas, even if someone had to sleep on the floor to make room, but Dumbledore had said that Voldemort was simply too powerful now for Harry to be able to visit outside a few strongly protected areas.  The Dursleys home was one of those protected areas, but Harry would not have liked to go there, even if the Dursleys had wanted him.

Wanted.  Harry hugged his pillow a little more tightly.  He'd never felt wanted, really, especially not as a small child.  The very worst Christmas ever had been when he had been...four? No, he must have been five, because that was the year Dudley got the scarf he'd worn to school... Harry had done something (he wasn't quite sure what, but it might have had something to do with magic) and been put in his cupboard Christmas Eve.  He'd been made to stay there all day Christmas day, while he listened to Dudley opening his presents and heard the Dursleys having their holiday dinner.  

Thinking about the five-year-old crying on his cot in the cupboard under the stairs made Harry feel particularly angry with the Dursleys.  What kind of people left a little child in a dark closet?  And on Christmas, too!  He wished, somehow, he could go back in time and comfort the small child he had once been.  That for once, the Little Boy Who Lived could be taken away from his awful relatives and be given the Christmas that he'd always…

Harry sat straight up in bed, a surge of hope overwhelming him.

It was true that in the muggle world, no one could go back in time or fix past mistakes, but in the wizard world, it was different.  He remembered the year Hermione had tried to take so many extra classes by using a Time Turner, and how she sometimes seemed to be in two places at once.  Could Harry use a Time Turner, as well?  Could he go back in time and just once in his life, give himself a happy memory?  The more he thought about it the more it seemed possible.  He only needed to convince Dumbledore.  

Easier thought than done, Harry realized the next morning as he tried to tell Dumbledore no harm would come from his plan.

"Please, Dumbledore?  Its just one evening, and part of the next day.  I got my Apperating license a month ago; I could go straight there and straight back, with no delays.  Nobody would even notice he was missing…um, I mean, that I was missing."

Dumbledore looked at Harry with pity in his eyes.  "The past is over and done with, Harry.  Using a Time Turner to take a few extra classes is one thing, but using it to purposely change the past is quite another…and extremely dangerous.  It also requires a much more powerful magical device to go back ten or twelve years than to go back an hour or two."  His voice became soft as he watched Harry blink back tears.  "Come now, Harry, what if your relatives found you missing?  And, more importantly, how would it affect you to have different memories of your childhood?  It might change you, you know."

"It wouldn't, I don't think.  Or not in a bad way, anyhow.  I don't remember all that much of what went on when I was small, but…I don't think one Christmas away from the Dursleys could be such a bad thing. And…I want to have something good to remember. One happy childhood memory.  Please?  Just this once?  I won't ask to do it again."

Albus Dumbledore gazed at the boy in front of him and remembered, as he watched a single, despairing tear form at the corner of Harry's eye, that if the boy had no happy memories of his childhood it was because a certain wizard had seen fit to place him with a family of Muggles who clearly did not love him.  It was the guilt, rather than the boy's arguments, that finally made Dumbledore answer with a sigh.

"All right.  Just this once."


	2. Christmas Eve

Christmas Eve

--

Dumbledore accompanied Harry through the night's darkness and across the lake to the edge of the school grounds.  In his haste to reassure the Headmaster that he could take care of everything, Harry had completely forgotten that it was impossible to Apparate from inside Hogwarts.  

"Maybe I _should_ read _Hogwarts: A History,_" thought Harry ruefully, stepping out of the little rowboat and on to dry land again.  Dumbledore followed at a slightly more sedate pace and brushed off his robes.  Using a large purple handkerchief, he drew an old muggle soda bottle out of the depths of his pocket and handed it to Harry with a concerned glance.

"Take the portkey so you can bring him back along with you.  You do have a Time Turner, Harry, so I will expect you back not more than a second or two after you leave.  And I want you standing right here, not anywhere else.  You have to be very cautious."

"I'll be right back," promised Harry.  "And I won't come back anywhere else."

"And you're not to let the Muggles see you,"  Dumbledore continued, still looking worried.

"I won't, Professor.  I'll be very careful."

"It is possible that as soon as you see yourself, your memories will re-arrange themselves,"  cautioned Dumbledore.  "Don't worry about that, just concentrate on the present – that is, the moment you're living in."

"I don't remember all that much from when I was five, Professor, although being locked in the cupboard on Christmas stands out in my mind.   I'm sure I'll be fine."

Dumbledore didn't look any happier.  "Harry, I'm not at all sure this is a good idea…"

"Too late now, Professor, I've already bought myself some Christmas presents." Harry tried to be flippant, but Dumbledore could see the young man was afraid his headmaster would change his mind.  "I owled Hermione with some money and a list a week ago."

"Harry…" Dumbledore began, intending to tell the boy that changing the past was not a good idea after all.  What if Harry got it into his head to warn his parents of their coming deaths, for instance, and Voldemort was never killed?  He opened his mouth to say no, Harry shouldn't leave.  But Harry seemed to read his thoughts.

"It's all right," Harry said softly, trying to swallow his disappointment.  "I know you well enough to know that if you think I shouldn't…I mean, I've lived with my memories for all these years.  I'll…I can…"

Guilt overrode Albus' better judgment once again.  "You can hurry up and go, and be back before I start to worry," Dumbledore announced firmly.

Smiling joyously, Harry took out his wand, and with a swish and a happy flick he Apparated into the Dursleys' back yard.

Apparating always made Harry just a bit dizzy and nauseated, as if his stomach had been left miles away and had to catch up after the rest of him.  Even so, he made sure to look around right away and ascertain that he had appeared where he intended to, in the shadows behind a large lilac bush, before he crept carefully to the back door.  There were no lights on in the house.  

He lifted up the mat and took up the house key that had been placed there the summer Dudley turned thirteen, shortly after he had locked himself out of his house for the fifth time.  Then Harry took out the Time Turner and flipped it over.

There was a rushing sound and a flash of light, and Harry found himself on his knees.  Harry couldn't believe Hermione had done this every day; he felt like he was going to throw up or faint, or both, but he wasn't far enough back yet.  

When he had counted out twelve turns, he stood up and took a few deep breaths.  The lilac bush he had hidden behind earlier was now only up to his waist, so the Time Turner had evidently done its work.  He stepped back and took a careful look at the Dursley household.  No lights.  Everyone had gone up to bed, thank goodness.

Carefully, Harry fitted his key into the lock and quietly entered the house by way of the kitchen.   As he made his way toward the stairs, he became aware of a snuffling, sobbing sound.  

"Harry!"  Boomed a voice from the second floor.   Harry froze.  How had Uncle Vernon heard him?  He thought he had been so careful.  "You stop that sniveling or I'll give you something to really cry about!  Dudley is trying to sleep!"

Abruptly, the snuffling sound from the stairs muted, without really stopping.  Harry guessed that the child under the stairs had stuffed his pillow in his mouth to stop himself from making noise, knowing his uncle wouldn't make an idle threat.

Harry remembered that trick, although he hadn't remembered using it that particular night.  

He waited for a long moment, and then crept forward again.  When he reached the cupboard, he pulled out his wand and held it aloft.  "Lumos," he whispered, and a soft light bloomed forth.  Very softly, so as not to scare the child or wake his aunt and uncle, he tapped on the door and called to his younger self.  

"Harry?" He said.  "Don't be afraid, and be very quiet.  We don't want to wake anyone. You don't know me, but I'm going to open the cupboard door for you.  Hang on just a moment." 

Slowly, Harry drew back the bolt on the cupboard and opened the door.  A pair of apprehensive, red-rimmed green eyes stared at him over a dirty pillow.

"Hi," Harry said to the pair of eyes.  _I'm Luke Skywalker; I'm here to rescue you_, he wanted to continue.  Instead he went on, "I'm one of your mother's relatives, Harry."  Seeing confusion, he clarified.  "Part of your mother's family.  Your aunt and uncle aren't planning on letting you out of there for Christmas.  Not so good, huh?  So I thought maybe you and I could go have our own holiday tomorrow.  I'll get you back here before anyone knows you're even gone."   Harry had been practicing all week exactly what he would say, determined to be as truthful as he possibly could, while not knowing if it would be enough of an explanation for even a five-year-old.

 "You're my mummy's other family?"  Asked Small Harry, slowly lowering the pillow from his face.

"That's right.  My name is Harry, too.  Just like yours."  Harry prayed that he was right about himself.  He remembered desperately wishing, especially when he was young, that some day his mummy would come (she wasn't dead, it was all a mistake), or even some unknown relative, and the person would take him away.   

Harry was hoping that the fantasy would give the boy a little nudge towards trusting him.

Small Harry stared out of the cupboard for several seconds, and then shrugged philosophically.  "I'm not 'apposed to talk to strangers.  But I think nobody's as mean as Uncle Vernon."  He looked thoughtful a moment.  "Do you have a Christmas tree?"

"A big one," assured Older Harry.  "And it's real, not plastic." As the Dursleys' had been every year. "_And_ it has presents under it for you."  

The little boy scrambled off his cot and out of the cupboard immediately.  "Let's go!"  He exclaimed, forgetting for a moment the need for quiet.

"Shh." Harry automatically put his finger over his lips.  Even though he knew exactly why it had happened, he was appalled at the little boy trusting a stranger so quickly.  Heaven forbid Voldemort should ever try and coax him away from his aunt and uncle with a Chocolate frog!

_But then_, thought Harry reasonably, _if that had already happened I'd remember_.  Dumbledore must've placed some strong protection spells around the Dursley home, though; it was the only explanation for why Harry was still safe.  

The older boy took the hand of the younger one, and together they left the house.  Once outside, Harry knelt before the little boy.

"Do you believe in magic, Harry?"  Older Harry asked.

Small Harry was horrified.  "Shhhhh!  That's a bad word."  The little boy looked frantically left and right, as if even now Uncle Vernon might be lurking in the tulip garden.

Harry smiled.  "Magic is not a bad word.  And it's real; in fact, that's how we're going to get back to where I live.  Won't that be fun?  Here, hold on to me."  He drew the little boy to him, and was delighted when, after a moment's hesitation, a pair of arms wrapped around his neck.  He adjusted the time turner carefully before flipping it again.

This time Harry's older self was prepared for the light and noise, but his younger self was not.  As he continued to turn the hourglass the little boy let out a screech of fear, and a light went on in the Dursley household just as Harry was able to grab for the portkey.  Without any warning to the little boy he quickly placed the hand of the younger version of himself and his own on top of the Coke bottle and prayed for the portkey to hurry up.   

In less than a second, the pair was at the edge of the lake.  Harry breathed a sigh of relief as he saw himself, a few feet away, Apparating off the grounds.  He wasn't late - in fact he must've come back a few seconds early.  

"Whoops," Harry said to Dumbledore, and had the pleasure of seeing the headmaster jump into the air in surprise as he whirled around.

"Goodness, Harry, you startled – oh, my.  So this is the little boy you were so anxious to see, eh?  He looks a little nervous."

Harry became aware that the little boy in his arms was clinging tightly to him, and was shivering slightly.  The little shuddery breaths sounded dangerously close to tears.

"Harry?" the older Harry said as gently as he could.  "Open your eyes, now.  It's all right.  It's all over.  No more jumping around.  I guess that was a little scary, wasn't it?  I'm sorry; I should have told you before we started…"  He rubbed the little boy's back softly, trying to think of something to distract him.  "Look over there, Harry.  Do you see that castle?  Have you ever seen such a big castle before?"

As Harry expected, the statement intrigued his younger self, and the arms loosened as the little boy looked up.  There was a gasp.

"You were telling the truth!"  The five-year-old said with astonishment.  "It was magic!  And there is a castle! And…and…I must really have Christmas presents this year!"

Harry-the-Elder grinned at Dumbledore. 

--

**_"When he had been younger, Harry had dreamed and dreamed of some unknown relation coming to take him away…"  - Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's (Philosopher's) stone, Chapter 2._**


	3. Goodnight Harry

Back at Hogwarts

___

When they reached the Hogwarts entrance Dumbledore left to celebrate his own holidays in parts unknown, and the older Harry decided to take the younger boy to the kitchen to get something substantial to eat.  He didn't remember specifics, but he was sure he hadn't been fed before he'd been locked in the cupboard. As they walked hand in hand through the halls of Hogwarts, Harry finally had a chance to examine his younger self at length.  

There was a lot of messy black hair hanging over the little boy's dirty face, and of course the clothes from Dudley were just as oversized at age five as they were in later years.  Even so, there was something endearing about the wide green eyes staring in wonderment and pointing at the moving pictures on the walls.

_Hey, I was a cute kid, after all,_ Harry thought with surprise.  No one had ever told him so.

 He gave his age-five self a grin as he explained about the people in the portraits.  

"What should I call you?"  The little boy asked suddenly.  "Uncle Harry?  Mr. Harry?"

"Well…"  Older Harry floundered at the question.  He hadn't really thought about it. "I suppose just Harry would be…"

"Mr. Potter," A familiar voice sneered.  "I see you have company.  Would you care to explain why it is that you are…Great Merlin!"

Harry turned to his left to see a person in billowing black robes striding forward.  Snape, of course.  The Potions professor was slightly less intimidating than usual.  Probably that had something to do with the fact that it was difficult for him to sneer with his mouth hanging open.  

Harry followed the direction of the stunned black eyes and saw that Younger Harry's scar was clearly showing.  The boy was waving to one of the paintings in an adorable fashion, either oblivious to the fact that Snape had used the name "Potter" or assuming Snape knew who he was.

"Why don't you go talk to the knight and the lady in the purple dress," Suggested the elder Harry to the younger, gesturing to the portrait the little boy seemed so interested in.  "They know a lot of good jokes."  Younger Harry went off to hear about the dragon who crossed the road, and Snape came to stand before Older Harry.  

"Mr. Potter…,"  said Snape slowly.  "Is…that …who…I …think it is?" 

"Dumbledore loaned me a Time Turner," Harry said briefly, hoping against hope the potion master would be satisfied with that and go away.  

Snape opened and closed his mouth several times.  Finally he spluttered, "The use of Time Turners is very strictly controlled by the Ministry of Magic.  The headmaster should never have done such a thing."  He glared at the little boy near the wall, who was talking animatedly to the knight on horseback.

Harry was tempted to tell Snape that if he didn't like it he could go complain to Dumbledore himself, but instead settled on an explanation of a sort.  "I didn't want him," the teenager nodded at younger Harry, "to spend Christmas alone."

Little Harry was in a pause between punch lines and overheard the last part of the conversation. He turned around to yell to Snape all about it.  "Uncle Vernon put me in the cupboard again, but Mr. Harry came and got me!  I get to have Christmas here!  With presents!"  He turned back to the portrait, this time focusing his attention on the lady.

Snape looked thoughtfully for a long time at the little boy, then turned back to Harry.  "The Time Turner, if you please," he said, holding out his hand.

Reluctantly, Harry took the bulky hourglass out of his pocket and handed it to Snape.  What he expected Snape to do, he didn't know, but he certainly didn't expect Snape to simply stare for several minutes at the thing in his hand.  

When Snape finally spoke again he sounded very unlike himself.  "And is Albus also planning to share this miracle with Draco Malfoy?  Or Mr. Longbottom?  Or with m-" He flushed.  "With every person at Hogwarts who has had an miserable upbringing?"    He looked at the Time Turner a few more seconds before offering it back to Harry, accompanied by the usual sneer.  "Your position as the headmaster's favorite is _most_ enviable, Mr. Potter.  _Do_ have a Happy Christmas."

But Harry had heard something in Snape's voice that he hadn't heard before, and he didn't immediately take back the Time Turner.  "Would you like to borrow it, professor?  I won't need it till tomorrow.  Maybe little Harry would like a playmate for a while…"

Snape inhaled sharply and his posture became, if possible, even stiffer than normal.  "No, Mister Potter, I would not," he replied icily.  "Unlike _some_ people, I know the value of letting the past alone."  He pushed the magical hourglass at Harry again, and this time Harry took it back.  Snape turned on his heel to leave.

"Professor?"

Snape stopped, scowling at Harry over his shoulder.  "Yes, Mr. Potter?"

"You reckon Draco would really want to use it?   Maybe I could get Dumbledore to…"

Snape cut him off.  "Mr. Potter, I have no doubt at all that Mr. Malfoy would dearly love to get his hands on the Time Turner, but I would highly recommend you never allow him to touch it.  I can't begin to imagine what sort of muddle he would make of his life if he kidnapped himself at the age of two and then refused to give himself back."  And with that, the potions master stalked away.  

"He is not very nice," Small Harry announced decidedly as he returned to his older friend.  Harry grinned down at himself.

"No, he's not, is he?  Come on, let's get something to eat - oh, wait.  Maybe there's something we should do first."   Harry reached for his wand and pointed it at the little boy, who looked fearful. "Nothing to worry about," Older Harry assured, and cast a simple cosmetic spell to cover up the scar on the younger boy's forehead.  The spell was really meant for spots, but it seemed to do just as well with scars.  Hopefully, anyone looking at the younger boy would assume that he was some sort of relation, and not Harry himself.  No need for unnecessary questions.

They reached the kitchens, and the older boy lifted the younger one and held him up to the fruit bowl painting, instructing him to tickle the pear.  It was hard to tell who giggled louder, the painted fruit or the little boy.  

The picture swung open.  Harry made sure to explain the best he could about the house-elves before stepping into the kitchen, but his younger self still squealed as he caught sight of Dobby and the others.  A painting was one thing, but house-elves moving around freely were something else again.

"Sir has come to visit Dobby again!"  Dobby said delightedly.  "And he has brought a friend!  Er - Sir has not brought his -older- friends with him again?" The house-elf asked suspiciously.  Harry shook his head, chuckling.  

The kitchen smelled like gingerbread and peppermint - exactly right for Christmas, Older Harry thought, watching Younger Harry sniffing the air expectantly.  Older Harry started to put the little boy on the floor, but the child grabbed tightly to the elder boy's robe and refused to let go, giving the house-elves apprehensive glances.   

Older Harry tried to demonstrate how friendly the house-elves were.  "Harry, this is Dobby the house-elf.  Dobby, this little boy is also named Harry.  And he's missed his supper tonight - probably his tea, as well.  Do you have anything extra about?" 

Immediately, house elves sprang into action, determined to bring nearly every delicacy the kitchen had to offer.  More fruit and cold chicken and muffins than three little boys could have eaten appeared at one of the tables.  Younger Harry overcame his misgivings about the house-elves rather quickly at that point, and Older Harry had to tell the child several times to slow down as he ate.  Being sick on Christmas Eve would NOT be a jolly Christmas memory.  

Happily stuffed and finishing the last bite of a gingersnap, Younger Harry began to yawn.

Older Harry was torn.   On the one hand, it was rather late for a little person who had had a very exciting day.  On the other hand, being tucked in after a hot bath was on Harry's "List of Things I Missed Out On as a Child" and Younger Harry didn't look as if his hygiene had been paid much attention to for the last couple of days.

Harry decided to compromise by asking his younger self what he wanted. "Harry, how does a bubble bath in a really splendid tub sound?  Or are you too tired?"  

Older Harry didn't have enough experience with small children to know that they never admit they are tired, so he was happily surprised when the five-year-old perked up at this.  "Really?  With bubbles?  Nobody else before me?"  He bounced up and down in his chair.  "Can I have my bath now?  Can I?  Please?" 

Older Harry found himself grinning again.  He suspected that most children so young didn't show as much enthusiasm about bathing, but then, most children probably didn't have a Dudley Dursley living with them always hogging the bathroom and using all the hot water.  He held out his hand to the little boy and led the way to the prefects' bathroom.

Hermione, bless her, had owled the new password for them along with all the other things Harry had requested.

"Scrubbing bubbles," said Older Harry, appropriately enough for the circumstances.  

Younger Harry was intrigued by the large room, the candle-filled chandelier, the mermaid in the portrait, (who hadn't gone to sleep yet, and was passing the time by combing her long blond hair), but especially by the dozens of bubble taps.  Older Harry was afraid to fill the tub very full, but even so, Younger Harry managed to try nearly every kind of bubbles before undressing and hopping into the shallow end.  

The little boy was particularly fond of the bubbles the size of beach balls that glowed in rainbow colors, and he occupied himself by gently lifting them in the air and then trying to keep them aloft by aiming his breath upward and blowing underneath them.  Consistently, the bubbles were too heavy and refused to stay up.  They came floating down again, popping when they landed on the little boy's nose.   When Younger Harry got bored with these, Older Harry transfigured a couple bars of soap into rubber ducks, and Younger Harry played with them while the older boy made an effort at washing the child's hair without getting soaked himself.  

"Bother," Older Harry said as he lifted the little boy out of the tub and began toweling him off.  He got up and opened the door of the bathroom, then pulled out his wand.  *"_Accio Pajamas*…_I can't believe I forgot them – and after I owled for them special, too."__

Small Harry watched curiously as the pajamas seemed to float on their own to the door within a few moments.  Already magic was beginning – just beginning – to seem natural.

"Did you do that?"  Younger Harry asked seriously.

"Sure," Older Harry replied, helping the small boy to dress.  Younger Harry didn't seem to need all that much assistance, which made sense considering all the help he was likely to have received from the Dursleys.  "It's not that tough, once you know the spell."  The flannel pajamas, rich with red fire engines that seemed to really move across the fabric, were just a bit too big.  Younger Harry was apparently smaller than the average five-year-old, and Older Harry wondered if that were partly due to not being fed enough.

"You made the ducks, too…"  Younger Harry watched the fire engines chase each other around his middle.  "And the pictures in the halls walked around.  And there were little people in the kitchen."

"The house-elves.  That's right."  Older Harry sat back on his heels, waiting for the little boy to finish thinking aloud.

"Uncle Vernon says m…magic…" A furtive look at the older boy.  "Says magic…isn't real.  Even pretending is bad."  
  
Older Harry sat down on the floor for the sole purpose of pulling the little boy onto his lap. "Listen, Harry, I'm going to tell you something I want you to remember.  I don't want you to repeat it but you have to remember, all right?"  Small Harry nodded and Older Harry took a deep breath.  "Your Uncle Vernon is an idiot.  He has no idea what he's talking about when he talks about magic.  He has no idea what he's talking about when he talks about you.  He and Aunt Petunia are wrong to treat you the way they do.  Do you understand?  They are wrong about magic, and they are wrong about you.  Just because they are grown-ups doesn't make them right."  

There.  Check that off the list:  Harry had always wanted someone to say that to him.  

Come to think of it, he had a vague feeling that someone had, once, and it had been very satisfying to hear.

___

Back in the Gryffindor dormitory, Harry turned back the covers on Ron's bed and invited his younger self to hop in.  Harry was sure Ron wouldn't mind using his bed for a good cause.

But for the first time Younger Harry sounded a little rebellious.  "I'm not sleepy," he announced grouchily, rubbing his eyes.  

_Uh-oh_  thought older Harry.  How to get a tired little boy to go to bed without a fuss?  _Come on now Harry, think, that's YOU there.  You've got to know how to deal with this._   Except that what Harry knew about himself and authority figures was not promising.

"You don't have to sleep yet," Harry coaxed.  "Just get under the covers and I'll read to you for awhile." 

Younger Harry considered this and then climbed into bed while Older Harry looked through the pile of children's books that Hermione had sent.  Harry hadn't asked for them.  Hermione had simply sent a selection of her old books as a matter of course when she'd heard about Harry's coming visitor.  

Harry settled on a book that seemed to be about a Teddy Bear losing a button and came back to the bed.  Very carefully, he tucked in the small child in and smoothed his hair, then sat on the edge of the bed and began to read.   By the time he reached the end of the book and the little girl in the story tucked the bear into bed, Younger Harry's eyes were heavy with sleep and barely open.  

"G'night Harry," said Older Harry, bending down to the small figure snuggled under the covers and giving him a kiss on the forehead.  "Sleep tight."  He debated with himself for a while about the absurdity of what he wanted to say next, but for God's sake, SOMEBODY should say it, and if it had to be himself, so be it.  "I love you, Harry."  He smoothed out the covers over the child again.

"'Night," mumbled the child sleepily before closing his eyes.  

"Darn it," thought Harry some time later, just before he drifted to sleep himself.  "I forgot to tell him it's okay to bounce on my bed when he wakes up in the morning.  Children should all be able to bounce beds Christmas morning.  Oh, well, maybe he'll do it on his own."


	4. Christmas Morning

Unfortunately, Harry did not wake to a small boy bouncing on his bed.   Instead, he awoke to a small voice in the center of the room.

"A'cio shoes!…A'cio shoes!"  
  
  
  


Harry opened his eyes and put on his glasses.  Small Harry was standing at the foot of Ron's bed holding his older counterpart's wand and pointing it determinedly at a small pair of shoes a few feet away.  Harry smiled.  His younger self had been paying attention last night.

"A'cio shoes!"  The little boy tried again, waggling the wand.  Nothing seemed to be happening.  In frustration he gave the wand a good hard shake.  Sparks flew out of the end and zoomed to the floor, burning the wood slightly and causing a little curl of smoke to rise.

"Harry!" exclaimed the older boy in alarm.

Small Harry jumped backward and dropped the wand, covering his face with his hands.  "I'm sorry," he mumbled through his fingers.  "I didn't mean to!"

Older Harry stepped out of bed and walked over to his younger self, kneeling near him.  "Harry?"

"I didn't mean to," repeated the child, still hiding his face.

"I know you didn't," Harry assured.  "I'm not mad.  You just scared me."  He reached out to touch Younger Harry lightly on the shoulder.  

The little boy flinched away.  "I did magic."

"Hey, honestly, it's okay.  No harm done.  We can even do some magic later, together, if you want to.  It's just that wands are…C'mon, Harry, look at me."

Cautiously, Younger Harry widened his fingers and peeked through.  When he saw that the older boy really didn't seem to be angry, he dropped his hands altogether.  

"Like I was saying," Harry continued, putting an arm around the little boy, "wands are really for big people.  I guess I should have told you earlier. Are you all right?"  He looked doubtfully at the black spot on the floor.

Small Harry nodded, still looking subdued. 

The older boy sat back on his heels and grinned.  "Hey, don't look so glum!  It's Christmas, and there are some gifts downstairs just waiting for a little boy named Harry to open them."

The younger Harry's face lit up and he began to bounce up and down.  "I have real presents!  I have real presents!  Can I open my presents now? Please?  Right now?" 

At Harry's nod, his younger self hurtled down the stairs toward the small pile under the tree at a rate of speed that made Older Harry fear for his safety.  However, once the child had reached the presents, he stopped and stood without moving, staring at the gifts wrapped in bright paper and dripping with ribbons.

"Which ones are mine?" he asked in an awed whisper.

"All of them," Older Harry replied. "Mine are over there." He waved vaguely at a chair. " I wanted to watch you open yours." 

The younger Harry still didn't move.  "What should I open first?"

"It's up to you.  Oh, wait.  Open that one," Older Harry gestured to the biggest package, "last."

Harry had been of two minds about buying presents for his five-year-old self.  What he wanted was to buy an entire toy store and put it under the tree, and he could probably have afforded to do so.  Then again, Harry hated to give the little boy things he would only have to leave behind when he went back to the Dursleys.  Even if, by some miracle, Dudley didn't take his presents away and Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon didn't wonder where they had come from (and Harry didn't put it past them to accuse a five-year-old of stealing), there was the problem of giving young Harry too much to remember his trip by.  Older Harry had finally decided to buy several things he knew the younger boy could eat, or use up, or hide easily, and a couple things that would just not be able to go back to the Dursleys.

The older boy sprawled on the floor with his chin propped in his hand and watched in delight as five-year-old Harry reached out for a large, flat box.  As soon as he touched it, he lost all hesitation, ripping off the gold and red wrapping and long strings of red ribbon.  He opened cardboard and held up one of the many small packages inside.  "What's this?"

"Chocolate frog.  They're not alive, but they're magic, so they hop around a bit before you eat them."

"Can I open one now?"  the little boy asked.

__

_Chocolate before breakfast?_   "Sure," answered Harry.  Some junk food first thing in the morning never killed anyone, he figured.  Caution prompted him to add, "Just one for now."  He grinned as the smaller boy ripped open the package and the frog gave a great leap under the tree.  The little boy dove for it and devoured the treat in two bites.

Next, younger Harry reached for a breadbox-sized package, and older Harry found himself gleeful with anticipation.  This was something it wouldn't be easy to bring back to the Dursleys', but Harry hadn't been able to resist.  

When he was very young he had longed for a doll to cuddle and hold like the one a neighbor child had.  Afraid to approach Uncle Vernon for nearly anything he really wanted, he'd appealed without much hope to Aunt Petunia, who had laughed scornfully and told his uncle anyway.    The end result was a long, loud lecture in which Harry was angrily told that, one: dolls were for girls, not for boys, and he shouldn't be asking for one in the first place, and two:  Harry was not worth the money it would take to buy a gift.  Harry had been cowed by this and had never brought up the subject of toys again.

Small Harry tore through the wrapping on the box and stared.  Through the plastic window a doll made of soft molded plastic lay nestled in its flannel blanket.  It had wide brown eyes and dimpled cheeks, came with two changes of clothing and its own bottle, and was exactly the right size for cuddling.  The little boy said nothing and sat silently.  

Older Harry became worried.  He knew his younger self liked the gift.  What was the problem?

"Is something the matter, Harry?"

Small Harry tentatively put out his hand to touch the plastic, and then pulled it back.  "Uncle Vernon says…"  He didn't continue.

Oh.  The pieces fell into place: Little Harry and his uncle had already had that conversation, apparently.  Older Harry sighed for what seemed like the umpteenth time in the past two days.

"Remember what I said yesterday, Harry?  Your uncle is wrong about a lot of things, and this is one of them.  Lots of little boys have dolls, and there's nothing wrong with it.  In fact, it can help you practice to be a good daddy some day.  If you really don't want to play with the doll, you don't have to, but if you want to, go ahead."

Little Harry thought about this for a few seconds before his troubled face melted into a wide grin. He ripped off the plastic wrap and yanked the poor baby doll out of the box so quickly that he would have given a real child whiplash.  He immediately stuffed the bottle in its mouth a couple of times, and then held the doll to his shoulder and pretended to burp it.  

He didn't put it down as he unwrapped his next few presents.  There were a penlight (Older Harry had remembered how dark it was in the cupboard), some of Mrs. Weasley's fudge (older Harry had graciously decided young Harry could have it) and some paper and crayons.

Little Harry next unwrapped a squishy package, which turned out to be a pillow.  Predictably, the little boy was not as excited about this, but in older Harry's opinion it was the best of the lot.  He had charmed it so that whoever slept on it would dream of forgotten memories – nice memories only, of course.  It could be easily switched with the pillow little Harry already had.

Then the child moved on to the largest package.  Older Harry had spent an unaccustomed amount of money on it – extravagant considering it was only going to be used by the little boy for one day.  It was a wizard plaything Harry had seen in a little shop in Diagon Alley, so there was no way at all this one could go back to the Dursleys house.

Small Harry took off the paper all at once and jumped back as tiny white objects flew out of the toy and over his head.  He sat down abruptly.  "Ohhh…It's magic!"

Indeed it was.  A two-foot high model of Hogwarts Castle stood on the floor. Around it, little owls flew in and out of the owlery in one of the turrets.   Older Harry took what looked like a blue scroll from the side of the castle and unfurled it onto the floor.   The blue "parchment" turned into the lake by Hogwarts, realistic in every detail; a giant squid reached one tentacle out of the liquid water and waved it at them.  The older unlocked a little mechanism on the side of the castle and it sprang open into two pieces.  

Little Harry peered inside.

The castle wasn't equipped with anywhere near all the rooms at Hogwarts, but a couple classrooms, like the DADA room and the potions room, were clearly visible, and so were the great hall and the headmaster's study.  All four turrets could be turned so that you could see the dormitories of the four houses inside, and one of the turrets held a "secret" passageway.   The interior of the castle was filled not only with furniture but also with figures of people.  Eight students sporting uniforms with house crests walked around the castle at random.  Figures of McGonagall, Snape, Binns and Dumbledore were busy at various tasks.

Recognizing Snape at once as the man who had been rude to his older friend, little Harry took one of the chairs from the potions room and seized the Snape figure (who squawked with surprise) and sat Snape facing the corner.

"Bad man," muttered Harry.  "You need a time-out."  The tiny Snape muttered and glowered and folded his arms, but stayed put.  Older Harry was highly amused.

While Younger Harry played with his toys, Older Harry opened his own gifts almost absently.  The usual sweater from Mrs. Weasley, the book from Hermione, a box of joke candies from Ron.  

And a paperclip from the Dursleys.  Somehow, it didn't matter so much this year.

---

Breakfast in the Great Hall was fun.  Younger Harry was understandably taken with the snow falling from the false-sky ceiling, and nearly as much so with the stack of pancakes Harry loaded onto his plate.  The Slytherins were sitting at their usual table.  They looked askance at Harry's little friend but nobody said anything.  Snape rolled his eyes, but he didn't interrupt them, either. 

"C' w' d' smagicnow?"  Piped up little Harry, through the huge bite of blueberry syrup-laden pancakes in his mouth.

"Eh?" 

Younger Harry swallowed.  "Can we do some magic now?  Like you said this morning?  Pleeeease?"

It took Harry a minute to remember what he had promised.  He snapped his fingers. "Oh!  Yes, I had an idea about that.  We need to go upstairs and get some things first."

"Yay!" shouted the little boy, knocking over his pumpkin juice in his exuberance.

Older Harry had his wand out and was cleaning up the mess before he'd thought twice, but younger Harry had covered his face with his hands again.

Harry took a few moments to reassure the little boy.  "It's all right: it's just juice.  No big deal."

  
"Uncle Vernon-" began Small Harry.

Uncle Vernon is an idiot," emphatically repeated older Harry as he magically cleaned the juice away.

---

Half an hour and a struggle with one slightly-too-large blue snowsuit later, both Harrys were standing on the Quidditch field with the older boy's Firebolt.

"So, Harry, have you ever wanted to fly?"  the older boy asked casually.

The younger boy watched, spellbound, as older Harry demonstrated riding on the Quidditch broom for a few seconds.  Then he landed and put the broom on the snow-covered ground next to the little boy.

"Okay, Harry, time to do some magic on your own.  Hold your hand out over the broom like this and say, 'up!'"

The little boy tried, but succeeded only in making the Firebolt wiggle a little.  

"Hm.  Try again, and this time, know for sure that the broom wants to do what you say."  

The little boy tried again, and this time the broom flew straight up into his hand.  Little Harry hopped up and down in the snow.  "It came to me!"

"Great job, Kiddo!  You're pretty good at this, you know that?" Older Harry took the broom and straddled it, then pulled the little boy in front of him.  "How about we fly around the field a few times?"

In the next couple hours, both Harrys had a wonderful time flying around, doing dips and rolls, and chasing a large, slow-flying "Tot-Snitch" that Harry had acquired for them.  A couple times Older Harry made the little boy squeal and giggle by going into a fairly steep dive and then swooping upward unexpectedly.  Eventually Older Harry even taught the little boy to steer.

Finally, sensing he had tired his younger self, Older Harry took the two of them inside again.


	5. Play Time

Older Harry brought Younger Harry indoors tired but happy.  As soon as the little boy was in Gryffindor tower again he caught sight of his new toys and wanted to play, hopping up and down even as Harry helped him struggle out of his snow suit.

When the older boy finished building up a warm, roaring fire in the common room fireplace, Younger Harry old looked up with great, pleading eyes.  "Can I have another frog now, please?" he begged.

Lunch was not far off, but Harry figured he had been so little indulged as a child that it wouldn't hurt if he were spoiled for one day.

"I guess so.  Not too many."  The younger boy happily unwrapped his confection, purposefully watched it jump twice, and then caught it in his small hand.  Once again, the entire frog was devoured in two bites.  Younger Harry had chocolate all over his mouth: the child looked so cute sticky and happy that Older Harry was almost sorry to have to wash his face.

When his younger self was sufficiently clean, Harry settled into a chair by the fire and propped his chin on his hand, content to watch the person he had been be happy for a time.  He thought his younger self would head straight to the miniature Hogwarts castle, but instead he went to the doll and wrapped it in its blanket before picking it up and cuddling it gently.

"I'm sorry I went away," Younger Harry apologized to the toy.  "I was just having breakfast and going outside.  I didn't forget about you."  He paused a moment.  "Don't be sad.  You are a good baby.  I'm not gonna leave you all by yourself."  Picking up the doll, he walked over to Older Harry and plunked it into his lap.  "You will take care of this baby for me," the little boy said firmly.  "I have to go to work."  
  
Older Harry was a touch embarrassed but held the doll obediently.  "All right."  
  
Satisfied, the younger boy went to play with the castle for a while, pointedly leaving Snape in time-out while he played with McGonagall and Dumbledore and two random students.  Older Harry watched the younger boy's play with interest.  The scenario seemed to involve Dumbledore as the father and McGonagall as the mother of the two students, one of whom seemed to be constantly be misbehaving while the other was always "good."  Older Harry had a horrible suspicion about who little Harry was thinking the "bad" child represented. 

The Dumbledore figure was placed with the Good Child, and Younger Harry made his voice low and rumbling to imitate a grown man's voice.  "You are a very good boy!  Come with me and we will buy lots of presents for you!"  The figures of the headmaster and student were shuffled aside, while they presumably "went shopping."

Younger Harry made McGonagall take the badly-behaved student by the arm, and then moved them to the secret passage.

"You are very bad," said the little boy, pretending to be the voice of McGonagall.  "And now you will have to stay in here in the dark."  He put the student in the secret passage, alone and McGonagall back in her classroom letting her wander.  
  
"No! No! Let me out! I'll be good!"  the little boy said in a desperate, high pitched voice, now pretending to be the child trapped in the passageway.  "Please let me out of here!"

Older Harry was beginning to feel sick to his stomach watching his younger self play out his emotions in the Hogwarts figures.  It was one thing to know that he had been treated poorly as a child; it was another thing all together to watch a little boy verbalize his hurt and fear.

Younger Harry suddenly picked up the trapped student and began talking to it directly.  "You are _not_ a bad boy.  I'm going to let you out of there now."   The student figure was brought out of the secret passage, then placed in the great hall to eat.    
  
Younger Harry was smiling as he sat back on his heels, watching the figures in Hogwarts move about.  He walked to Older Harry and took his doll back.

"I'm back from work now.  Thank you for watching my baby."  
  
Older Harry handed the doll back silently.  He didn't really trust himself to speak.

Later in the day, after the two had eaten lunch,  Older Harry suggested the two of them build a snowman.  There wasn't quite enough snow on the ground yet so Harry cheated a little and thickened it up with his wand.  The completed snowman was just about the funniest thing he had seen in a long time - its stick arms were out at odd angles, as if the were directing traffic, and the face made of rocks, which the younger boy had done, was only recognizable as a face because it was somewhere near the top of the pile of snow.

"It's beautiful!" Little Harry said happily.  Older Harry could only agree.

Younger Harry began to yawn and rub his eyes and Older Harry, although he generally didn't have a clue about children in general, took this as an obvious sign that his younger counterpart needed a nap.

When the little boy was settled comfortably once again on Ron's bed, Harry looked thoughtfully down at the sleeping figure.  It was odd.  When Harry watched himself as a small child, he kept forgetting who it was.  It could have been any little boy, really.   The more he watched himself, the more he thought what a nice kid - what a _normal _(not a freak!)kid he'd been, and the angrier he became at the Dursleys' neglect.

Harry sighed.  He and Little Harry would  probably have time to go flying one more time, and then he would have to return himself to Privet Drive, whether he liked it or not.


	6. Returning Harry

That evening, Dumbledore came to the Gryffindor tower to find that Harry was sitting in the comfy armchair in the Gryffindor common room and Small Harry was fast asleep in his older friend's arms.

Dumbledore smiled.  "Well, Harry.  I see that you've had a very productive day."  He glanced at the toys on the floor, his eye resting on the Hogwarts castle.  "Isn't that clever!  I wouldn't mind playing with that myself."  He knelt down on the floor.  "Bless my soul! What an excellent representation of Professor Binns!  Hm, Professor Snape looks a bit out of sorts in there, though."

"He's been in time-out all day.   He's probably not in a very good mood."

"Oh, I see."  The headmaster removed the little figure from his corner and put him next to a caldron in the potions room.  The tiny potions master seemed mollified and began making something that smoked green. 

The headmaster straightened up.  "Did you have a happy Christmas, Harry?"

Harry smiled wistfully at the child sleeping in his arms.  "It was the best Christmas I never remember having."

Dumbledore nodded.  "I see.  Thinking that you may need that _Obliviate_ charm after all, eh?"

"I don't see how I can get around it.  I didn't want to, but it's been too much, I can tell.  And I'm sending all the Christmas presents but the castle, so if I don't do an _Obliviate_, Harry is bound to remember where they came from."

"And how to you plan to explain that?" Dumbledore nodded at the doll still tightly enfolded in the little boy's grasp.

Harry shrugged.  "I wrote a tag that said '_Merry Christmas from A. Figg_' and tied it to the doll's wrist.  That way, if Uncle Vernon or Aunt Petunia ever sees it, they'll figure it's from her.  I've already told Harry not to take the tag off and he knows he better not let the Dursleys see the doll if he can help it, anyway."

"And the rest?"  

"The pillow will get traded for his old one.  The chocolate frogs are just about gone.  He can hide the rest under his cot.  No big deal."

"I see," said Dumbledore again.  "Considering your younger self's age, I'd say you don't really need a full _Obliviate_.  Just something to fuzzy the memory a little.  If I may?"  The headmaster pulled out his wand and pointed it at little Harry.  "_Obscurify_," he said softly.  Harry murmured in his sleep and squirmed, but didn't wake.  "That should do the trick."  He switched his attention toward the older boy.  "And now, I suppose you know what you need to do?"

Harry nodded regretfully and stood.  "It's time for me to take him back."

The lake had frozen over during the night, so Dumbledore and Harry took a different route to the edge of Hogwarts.  Just like the last time, Dumbledore waited for Harry while he Apparated to the Dursleys, did a time change, and came back.

From Dumbledore's perspective, Harry was back in a few seconds.

"Everything go off with no trouble?"  Dumbledore asked.

"No.  No trouble."  The two trudged back to Hogwarts through the snow.  Harry tried again to remember Christmas the year he was five.  He still remembered being locked in the cupboard, although now he had vague recollections of someone coming to him: it was all somewhat hazy, as if he couldn't quite remember a dream.  

He reached for any memory at all from his five-year-old self's visit to Hogwarts, and came up with feelings rather than definite incidents. He didn't remember flying, but he remembered the feeling of joy he'd had in flight on the Firebolt.  He remembered the doll, because he'd had it afterwards, but he remembered it in the same shadowy way he remembered most things from when he was small. If he hadn't known he'd once had it he would have forgotten all about it by now.  He remembered the feeling of being cuddled, tucked in – thank God – and there was a firm conviction in the back of his mind that Uncle Vernon had no idea what he was talking about most of the time.

"You shouldn't have made me go back every year," Harry said suddenly, more sharply than he intended.  "They kept me in a cupboard, you do understand that don't you?  And it was more than that, as I'm sure you already know.  It was wrong of you to keep me there when you knew all along.  Children shouldn't grow up thinking they aren't loved!"

Dumbledore flinched.  Harry had never seen quite that expression on the Headmaster's  face before; the old wizard's eyes were clouded with sadness.  "I didn't have a choice, Harry.  You had to be with your Aunt Petunia, for your own safety."

"You should have thought of something else," Harry said angrily.  "_Anything_ else.  You can't know how it felt to grow up like that.  I really thought I was worthless, for years!"

Dumbledore stopped in his tracks, turned. "I'm so sorry, Harry," the Headmaster whispered, sounding pained.  "Believe me when I say that if I thought I could have done anything differently, I would have."

Harry blinked back tears and sighed resignedly.  "I know you would have.  It just doesn't seem fair."

Dumbledore nodded gravely and they continued their trek back to the castle.  "You know, Harry," Dumbledore said suddenly,  "most people don't have the opportunity to go back in time and give themselves a better childhood."

"I know that, Professor.  Thank you again for letting me use the Time Turner."

Dumbledore waved that away.  "You misunderstand me, my boy, I'm not asking for thanks.  I'm suggesting that other people deal with unhappy childhoods in other ways." He glanced at Harry.  "Quite a lot of people, for example, who know what it is to have an unhappy childhood, try to make things better for other children who are having a difficult time of it."  He gave Harry a half-smile.  "Of course, far be it from me to give unwanted advice."

Harry snorted.  "Of course."  But his mind was racing ahead.  Of course children in the present were suffering as he had many years ago.  Surely there was something he could do for them?  He tried to think of something he could do right now, today, to help.

"Professor, I don't suppose you know of a child who might like that Hogwarts castle to play with, do you?"  
  
Dumbledore positively beamed.  "Of course, dear boy, of course!  An excellent idea!"

It was a very small thing, Harry thought, but at least it was a beginning.


End file.
